All Those Who Take the Sword
by Lady Irelynne
Summary: A Jedi Padawan is badly injured and on the run, having lost her friends and her Jedi Master. What will it take in order for her to love or even trust again?
1. Part 1

**Title:** All Those Who Take the Sword  
**Author(s):** Lady Irelynne  
**Timeframe:** Jedi Purges  
**Characters:** OCs, some mention of Darth Vader  
**Genre:** Action, Romance, Angst, Drama  
**Keywords:**  
**Summary:** A Jedi Padawan is badly injured and on the run, having lost her friends and her Jedi Master. What will it take in order for her to love or even trust again?  
**Notes:** This is from the JC Title Challenge (http:boards. FanFictionResource/ b10304/16954123?86- remove spaces in link).

And so it begins...

Feet pounded the duracrete streets as Alina searched vainly for a hiding spot. She dared not go back to her old haunts, couldn't risk any of the medwards or clinics. Where could she go?

Booted feet echoed simultaneously, and she tossed a frightened glance over her shoulder. Her terror coiled in her belly, slithered along her spine, and made her heart beat erratically. Her breath shallow, she fought to demolish the fear, but couldn't it, and she could feel its icy tendrils creeping into her mind.

_Dead, all dead. Jasken, Fete, Veli. And,_ Her breath caught and she tripped, scraping her knees along the harsh ground, ripping open her dark pants. _Master Delesaka._ She moaned quietly with pain and staggered to her feet, her hand catching on the side of the building. She pulled it away seconds later, and stumbled along the road, not noticing the red handprint that defaced the dark cream of the wall.

The wall she was leaning against as she staggered along the pathway all of a sudden disappeared, and she collapsed in a pile in the alleyway. "There she is!" She could hear the deep voice of one of the men chasing her, and she fought back the fear that threatened to freeze her whole body. _A Jedi knows no fear, Alina._ Her master's warm voice echoed in her mind, and the girl relaxed, then levered herself off the ground. Her body protested the abuse, but she forced it to the back of her mind as she began running again.

She'd been running for weeks now, racing along the countryside, cowering in the cities of Corellia. She was exhausted, wounded, hungry, and cold, but she couldn't stop. The mandate was out- all Jedi were to be exterminated, along with anyone who aided "those vile creatures". _Stupid bloody Sith-lovers!_ her mind muttered ferociously.

Blast bolts whined above her head, and she automatically ducked and rolled into the near alleyway. Her lightsaber remained on her belt as she drew one of her two remaining blasters and checked the power pack. _Half-full._ It would hold for at least twenty more shots. At least, she _hoped_ it would.

_Stop filling your mind with useless hopes, girl! Pay attention to reality, or you'll end up with a vibroblade between your ribs because you_ hoped_ you could convince some hardened murderer to not to turn you in!_ Fete's voice echoed in her mind, and she sniffed, wiping away snot and tears, and blood.

"Damned 'troopers!" she spat suddenly as blast bolts dug into the corner of the plaster near her head. A handful of other curses continued the thought as some of the plaster landed on her head, which was still recovering from the concussion she'd gotten several days ago.

_Focus Alina. You can do this. You can beat them._ She took a deep, calming breath, and focused her mind, letting it drop into the ever-flowing river of the Force. Four life-signs showed on the street, separated from her only by the corner of the building she was leaning against. Keeping their position locked into her mind, she gathered the energy, bracing herself for the pain, and threw herself out into the middle of the road, blaster out. Rolling, she snapped off six shots, noting that all but one of the soldiers were down now as she collided with the other building.

Ignoring the protests of her ribs and bruised body, she flipped herself onto her feet and fired three shots at the soldier. He didn't have a chance, and slowly flopped down into the dust and debris covered street without even a sound. Alina stood there for a minute, feeling lightheaded as the last week began catching up to her. _Think, Alina! You need food, rest. You need to heal. Where did Master Delesaka say you could go if there was trouble?_

"Something on Retan Street." She cursed. She had no idea where she was, or how to get there. _Map, dummy._ "Right. A map." Only she had no idea where to find one. _Come on, Alina, think for once in your miserable life. You know you've got blood still pumping to your brain, now use that bundle of nerves!_

Staggering down the street, leaving an obvious bloody trail behind, she slowly made her way to the intersection, and noted the various speeders lined up in front of the buildings. A plan began to formulate in her mind, and the Jedi Padawan crept stealthily along the sidewalk. Seconds later, an engine was revving, and then she was off.

Somehow Lady Fate seemed to be enjoying the irony of her situation, for she had stolen what was probably the only speeder in the galaxy with a computer that had a smart-aleck attitude, _but_ a map built in. "Did you somehow forget the passcode to the bike that you _stole_!" the stupid thing wailed. "I'm going to lose all this expensive lacquer, and it's only a week old! Watch that corner! Where did you learn how to drive a luxury speeder like me? You're going to ruin me! You must certainly did not possess any sort of speeder license unless you got it on some forsaken backwater planet!" The thing wouldn't shut up!

Finally, he-it!- took her to Malken Street, which was right next to Retan Street, and she dumped the thing. "Thank the Force," she whispered. _Do you remember_ anything _Master Delesaka told you about this man? Like his name, for instance? Or maybe the number of his house?_ an acid-laced voice in her mind demanded.

"Shut up!" she hissed quietly. "I'm trying to remember it, and you're not helping!" That seemed to quiet the voice, and she concentrated all her memory on trying to remember the information her master had passed on when they'd fled Coruscant.

A strong hand latched around her arm at that moment, breaking her concentration, and affectively hiding her from sight. A skinny, black-haired man stood there, fixing her with a blue glare. "Are you _trying_ to get me killed?" he spat furiously, even as he began punching a complicated sequence of numbers into the keycode station next to the door.

All in a rush, the name came to her. "Wiltive Daleby," she whispered.

He eyed her through his curly shock of hair. "That's me. Who are you?"

"Padawan Alinketa Vepos," the Jedi wearily replied. He started turning fuzzy around the edges, then swaying back and forth. "Stop that," Alina commanded. "You're giving me a headache."

"I've got to get these numbers in before the soldiers come back," he informed her, giving her a quizzical glance before turning back to the fuzzy black object that was beeping

She huffed a sigh. "Not _that_," she condescended. "Stop swaying. It's making me dizzy, and I've-". Abruptly, she swallowed as bile began rushing up into her throat. "Please forgive me. I'm not feeling too well." And then she could feel her body heaving as she folded over.

"Dammit! Not here! Not where they can get a sample!" The door slid open, and she could feel his hands on her body, dragging her through. It hissed quietly behind her, and when she opened her eyes, she could see nothing but a wild kaleidoscope of color, exploding in various patterns that made her head hurt even more.

"Make it stop," she moaned.

"No! Not the shoes! Oh, why do I always get the hard cases?" she could hear Daleby complain, right before a needle was stabbed into her arm and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Her first thought when waking was that she had fallen into the hands of the Empire. She could hear sophisticated medical equipment whirring and beeping all around her, and when she concentrated, one of those beeps sounded in sync with her heartbeat. A blanket had apparently been tossed over her body, and she could feel its gentle heaviness cocooning her lightly against the bed she was lying in. Her second thought was to wonder why they were trying to save her life, instead of killing her.

"She's awake," a soft, feminine voice announced to the room _Yeah, why not invite everybody else to join in the torture?_ her mind demanded caustically.

"Why hasn't she opened her eyes?" a quieter, masculine voice demanded. _So that I can pretend that this is all a bad dream, why else?_ her mind shot back, even as she kept her face as smooth and expressionless as an empty pond on a windless day.

"Padawan Alinketa Vepos, you may open your eyes. You are among friends." The third voice was masculine, but old. Very old.

"Kid, wake up." The fourth voice she recognized, and her mind summoned up a picture of a dark haired man cursing as she puked all over his boots.

"Sorry about your boots Daleby," she said. Her eyes flew open when it came out as little more than a rasp, scorching her vocal cords. A glass of water was pressed into her hand, and she nodded a thank you to the woman who had brought it to her, a long blonde braid swinging with every step.

With each sip from the glass, she looked over the group crowded around her bed, and her surroundings. The blonde woman had to have been the first speaker from when she had originally woken up. The white haired man next to her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, dark eyes staring straight into Alina's, had to have been the old man she had heard before. She recognized Daleby from before, which meant that the brown haired, green eyed man standing on her immediate left was the other man from before.

Her bed, with its warm blanket, was crowded into a cramped room, filled with another bed, some machines she recognized from her various stays in medwards, and a bank of computers. "Where the hell am I?" she demanded, noting to her satisfaction that the words came out stronger this time.

"Our home," Daleby informed her. "I'd like you to meet my father, Malen Daleby, my younger brother Jorgeham, and Felja."

"What relation?" Alina asked.

Wiltive blushed, as did Felja. "My wife. She's been keeping people like you alive."

"People like me?

The quiet, brown-haired man- Jorgeham- spoke up. "Jedi. Or did you think that you were the only one?" he demanded caustically.

Emotion began welling up inside of her, and she jerked her gaze to a spot where she couldn't see anyone. _Only one? How could I when I saw my friends blown apart before my own eyes? When Master Delesaka was killed as we ran?_

"That was uncalled for, Jorge," Malen admonished quietly.

"Don't worry about it," Alina turned back to them, pulling her body upwards into a sitting position. Cuts and abused muscles screamed, but she ignored them as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "I'm used to it by now."

There was no need to reply to that; they all know what she meant. Felja rushed forward to push her back on the bed when she started to put her weight on her feet. "No! You're not healed yet! You need more rest!"

"How long have I been out?" Alina demanded through gritted teeth as she transferred more and more weight to her legs and began to stand up straight. _I'll have to go into a healing trance later._

"Three days. It would have been the fourth in two hours," Jorge told her quietly.

Her head spun around to stare at him in shock, and she lost her grasp on the tenuous control that had allowed her to try standing. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, whacking her head painfully against the wooden edge of the bed.

The Dalebys rushed to help her back into bed, but she waved off their hands, not wanting to show weakness. Finally, after several minutes of grunting and opening wounds, she gave up, and simply sat there, blood staining the plain gray shift she wore. Felja swore, and sent Jorge on a mission to retrieve something- Alina didn't catch what- and the remaining Dalebys lifted the Jedi up. They placed her gently down on a cold metal surface, and she flinched.

"Sorry," Felja apologized, bustling over with a metal basin of water, some bottles, and several clothes. "We're going to need to get these clothes off you, so you don't leave stains." A hissing door signified the Dalebys retreat to give her privacy, and Felja helped her into a sitting position.

The woman began unsnapping the back of the gown. "When Wil brought you here, I could hardly believe you were still alive. You're lucky to be, you know."

The gray cloth fell forward, exposing her to midwaist, and Alina looked down at the white bandages- rapidly turning red- that kept her modesty. And then that covering was gone. The bandages disappeared into a basket, and the blonde woman ran a cloth gently over the bleeding wounds. "How did you get so badly hurt, anyway?" she asked, dropping the cloth into the same basket as the bandages, and wetting another in the bowl.

"Running. First, trying to save-" Alina cut herself off sharply, the memories hurting. "I don't want to talk about it."

Felja nodded, seeming to understand the Jedi's reluctance to talk to a near stranger about the horrific incidents that she had been through. Alina looked down at herself as the woman began cleaning her back. A blast wound disfigured her shoulder, but that would heal quickly, especially with a trance. A long cut swiped between her breasts, then cutting to the right, along the bottom of her rib cage. She brushed a gentle hand over it, remembering the soldier who had given it to her, right before she'd killed him.

_The smoke crowded the small intersection, slowly dispersing, but not quickly enough. Jasken was back to back with her, and she could feel his muscles shifting as he twirled his lightsaber, blocking blast bolt after blast bolt. Fete and Veli were in the same position; she could see her green lightsaber and his blue one clearly, even through the haze crowding her eyes as dust and smoke billowed._

"_Reinforcements coming!" Veli shouted, desperate to be heard over the whines of shots, and the screams of frightened civilians as they were cut ruthlessly down by the stormtroopers._ We should save them_, Alina thought desperately to herself, even as her arms ached with fatigue. They'd been running for the last three days, ever since her Master had been cut down._

_A scream caught her attention, and she spared a quick glance over to see the green blade of Fete disappear, the black-skinned girl collapsing to the ground. _No! Stop this!_ her mind screamed, even as she blocked shots monotonously._

"_They're coming in!" Jasken shouted, and then they were rushed. Backs pressed tight together, Alina's heart ached for Veli, who was partnerless, forced to watch both his back and front. It would take a miracle for him to survive this conflict._ Forget a miracle to save him- it'll take a miracle to get _any_ of you out of this alive_, her mind cruelly reminded her._

_Her green blade, bluer than Fete's, cut through waves of soldiers, slicing through flesh and metal like they were nothing, a mere blur in the conflict. Fete was nineteen, the oldest of them. Jasken was turning that age in a month, but both Veli and Alina had more than a quarter of a year to go before they reached that oh-so vaulted age._ And now none of you will,_ some deceitful part of her mind whispered._ Not unless you embrace it.

"_No!" she screamed._ I won't do it. I won't turn to the Dark Side.

Your choice. You could save all your friends, _that cruel voice whispered._

And become their worst nightmare? I don't think so!

Your choice,_ the voice whispered, lingering for a second, then disappearing. Alina shook off the uneasiness that threatened to overwhelm her, and focused on defending herself and Jasken._

_An agonized cry came from her side, and she watched, horrified, tears streaming through blood and dirt, as Veli crumpled and his blue lightsaber extinguished. Calling it to her with the Force, Alina concentrated once more on the soldiers attempting to rush her._

_But her moment of distraction cost her, and she felt a burning pain along her torso as a young soldier who couldn't have been more than a handful of years older than her rammed the sharp bayonet of his gun into her chest. Gasping with pain, she pulled away, her body twisting, and ripping the point down her chest and along her ribcage._

_She hit the ground, and she could feel the butt of his gun displace air as it came crashing down on her spine. She screamed, but rolled, her back not broken thank the Force, then whipped her lightsaber up. It cut through flesh and bone easily, and then met no resistance. The boy collapsed, and she wanted to stare at him, to scream at the person whose stupidity had led to this whole mess, but she had to fight. Blaster bolts were cutting through the air all around her. _

_But then Jasken's fingers wrapped tight around her wrist and he was jerking her into an alley. No soldiers followed them, and he was parting the edges of her torn jacket to look over her wound. "No time for better care," he told her as he ripped off his jacket, and then his shirt. The jacket was flung back on, but Jasken quickly ripped the cream colored shirt into strips. "Help me out here, Alina," he barked, and she started, then lifted her arms. He pulled off her jacket, then began wrapping the make-shift bandages around her chest and midriff. His long fingers wrapped and folded quickly, then he was jerking her bloody jacket back over it and dragging her to his feet._

_Booted feet echoed even in the alley, and they raced towards the high fence at the other end. Jasken helped her ove-_

"Oh, bloody hellfire!"

Alina was jerked out of her unpleasant memories when a harsh male voice interrupted them, and she stared with incomprehension at Jorge, who had just entered the small room, a pile of gray cloth in his hand. He stared back at her, a deep blush coloring his tan cheekbones, and then the Jedi remembered. "Oh!" she cried, scrambling for the cloth of the gray shift she had been wearing before and jerking it over her exposed midriff.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking away when she was covered and handing the cloth to Felja.

The woman murmured apologies as well, then hurried him through the door. "I'm sorry about Jorge bursting in like that," she began quietly, helping Alina put her arms through the corresponding holes in the new gray shift Jorge had brought.

"Don't worry about it," Alina reassured her absentmindedly. "Growing up with a bunch of guys means that I'm used to people bursting in on me." Tears began to well up as she thought of her friends, and she hastily batted the emotion away, asking, "How badly was I hurt?"

The blonde woman seemed to understand the need for another topic, and informed her, "You broke your right ankle- I used a bacta batch on that- and four of your ribs. I used another bacta patch on them, and wrapped them. You were covered with blood when you got here, but little of it was yours. The bit that was yours was mostly from that cut on your chest, the one on your hip, the three across your back, and the cuts along your thighs and calves, but nothing too serious. You have a severe concussion, three cracked ribs, and some very serious bruising. On top of that, you were malnourished, dehydrated, and exhausted."

"How long until I'm off your hands, completely healed?"

"Three months, at least, if you want to get back into the condition that you were before this started. We'll hide you," Felja reassured her.

"No, I'll just get you killed," the Jedi replied grimly. She sighed, burying her face in her hands, then met Felja's blue eyes. "I want you to get me back into fighting shape as quickly as possible," she ordered. "But first," she quirked her mouth in a wry smile, "can I have something to eat?"


	2. Part 2

**Padawan Sydney Bristow- **I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! And don't worry- there's more, and it gets happier (sort of). Thank you!

Three weeks went by quickly, and Alina was soon hobbling around the cramped medward. Wiltive and Malen had stopped by to see her, and Felja practically lived with her, but she hadn't seen Jorge since he'd walked in on her half naked. She sighed. If his avoidance of her was any indication, he was far more embarrassed than she was.

She sighed again and reached for her crutches. The bacta patches could do little but speed up the amount of time until she could rest some weight on her ankle, provided she was very careful. Most of her cuts had begun fading into pale scars that showed up in sharp relief against her tanned skin. And thanks to three weeks of Felja pouring food down her throat, she'd gained back most of the weight she'd lost in the last month.

The door to the medward hissed open and Wiltive was standing there, waiting to lead her to the exercise room. She'd finally been signed off for therapy and exercise, starting today. _Thank the Force,_ she thought cheerfully to herself. _I was about to go stir-crazy._

"Ready to roll, kid?" Wil asked kindly, hiding back a chuckle at the sight of what she was wearing.

"Don't you dare laugh," she ordered, knowing exactly the picture she made. Clad in a simple white sleeveless shirt and gray pants at least three sizes too big for her, Alina _knew_ she looked like an pre-adolescent. The pants were rolled five times so that she wouldn't trip on the excess material, and she'd cinched the drawstring as tight as she could around her hips. Her curly hair, never known for being under control, was ferociously trying to escape from a tight plait that hung over her shoulder almost to her waist. Definitely not experienced warrior material.

Alina brought a hand up to brush against the lock of hair that had once been braided to show her status as a Jedi Padawan. She'd finally given in that morning to Felja's insistence on unbraiding the plait, recognizing the woman's point that it was too well-known as a symbol of the Jedi. _Like my lightsaber isn't_, she thought sardonically. _But lightsabers can be hidden, or disguised. Padawan's braids are too specific,_another part of her mind pointed out. _Get lost,_ Alina growled. _Just saying,_ the other part taunted before fading away.

She started at the feel of Wil's warm fingers on her arm, then flashed him a small smile. "Shall we go, milady?" he teased.

"Lead on," she retorted. He grinned, a flash of white against dark skin, and began chatting about the various rooms they were passing.

The Daleby home was built of stone, shaped around a fanciful garden. The two other times she'd been allowed out of the "medward", Alina had enjoyed sitting on one of the ornately carved wooden benches, enjoying the tinkle of the small waterfall, and gazing at the brightly colored flowers and overhanging branches of the trees. Wil led her on the flagstoned pathway around it, and she gently ran her hand along the elaborately carved railing separating her from nature.

"…and this is the training room," Wil finished, waving his hand to prompt a door to hiss quietly open. Alina followed him into the darkened room, blinking rapidly as the lights flashed on a mere millisecond after they detected movement. A rack full of free weights stood in a corner, along with several machines. A sparring circle was painted on the blue floor, and several punching dummies, along with a boxing bag, were stuck in another corner.

Jorge was working out on one of the machines, biceps straining with the tension. After finishing two more reps, he replaced the bar and stood, wiping his sweaty face with the gray shirt he was wearing. "Hey, little brother," Wil called.

Jorge glanced over at the couple entering the room, and Alina could see a light flush tinge his cheeks, barely noticeable against the exercise-induced color across his face. "Hey, Jorge," she said cheerfully.

"Hello," he replied shortly. "I'll leave you guys to your work."

Wil gave him a strange look as he left, then turned to Alina and said, "Don't worry about him. He's been in a funk for the last couple of weeks."

She nodded, musing the knowledge over in her mind, then asked, "Shall we start?"

An evil grin slowly spread across his face as he murmured, "As you wish."

Three hours later, the Jedi collapsed to the floor and moaned, "I give up!" Wil had made her work on the weights, the punching dummies, and do some running to see what kind of shape she was in, and what kind of work she needed to get back into top shape, and now she was exhausted, and every muscle in her body was protesting the hard work she'd put it through.

A towel was tossed on her head, and a teasing voice taunted her. "Come on kid. Let's hit the showers, then you can get some real food, and meet the rest of the people here."

Her left hand moved languidly to pull the towel away from one of her eyes, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. The hot water felt good on her aching muscles, and washed the sweat that stung her eyes. A thought occurred to her as she was washing the soap out of her hair. _The rest of the people?_ Suddenly worried, for she'd faced betrayal by those she'd trusted with her life several times over the last few months, she finished washing up and pulled on the clothes he'd left her. He was waiting outside the room. She grabbed his arm and demanded, "The rest of the people? Who else do you have stashed here?"

"My sister, my two nieces and one nephew, four aunts, one great-aunt, ten cousins- all under the age of twelve, three uncles, and my grandmother," he told her with a completely serious air, turning to walk towards the doorway. "Let's get moving, Jedi."

She pulled on his arm. "Whoa, so how many people are here besides you and me?" she demanded abruptly.

He gave her a short glance that read her thoughts, even as she sought to hide them behind a blank face. "You can trust us, Alina. We have reasons of our own for helping Jedi; they're never going to go away."

She eyed him, confused with that enigmatic statement. "How do I know that?" she retorted with a complete lack of emotion. "Those who professed to be my friend, a friend of the Jedi, they turned around and stabbed me in the back." Her voice rose in pitch. "Why do you think I've been running the last four months of my life? I don't know who to trust? Those I could have sworn would never betray me eagerly sold my life to the Empire for a handful of credits. I didn't even know if I could come here," she spat bitterly, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. "All I knew was that Master Delesaka said I could trust you. I don't know why she said that, or why I should believe that you won't turn me over to the authorities at the first sign of them."

"You have to have faith," he told her gently.

"Yeah, well, I lost that four months ago, when my 'friends' got a hundred credits for leading troopers to a passageway into the Jedi Temple, straight to a group of us. Three of us died that day, and we had to run. I've been running ever since, and I've yet to find a non-Jedi I can trust," she replied bitterly, striding away.

He watched her leave, pain reflecting in his blue eyes, standing there until she disappeared from his view.

Alina stalked straight down the wooden steps into the garden she'd been admiring only a few hours earlier, striding across the green grass and ducking under the branches of trees. She wandered aimlessly, caught up in her thoughts, trapped by those awful memories of the last quarter year. Each loss of a friend, through betrayal or death, cut deep, and now she was forced to watch her mind callously replied each of those memories, twisting the knife farther still.

A large, flat-topped rock under the shade of one of the trees caught her attention, and she ambled over to it, before sitting in a cross-legged fashion on top of it. Her arms clasped around her legs, she stared off into space as she fought to gain control of her emotions.

Rustling in the plants attracted her attention, and she froze. Excited chattering caught her ear, and she leaned forward, trying to understand who the people were invading her sanctuary. The voice of the elder Daleby drifted over to her, and she slowly relaxed. He was most likely with those children his son had mentioned before.

"Children, slow down," he ordered gently. "We don't want to disturb the sleeping giants." They giggled, but quickly quieted, the calmness broken by the occasional gurgle of laughter. Alina could hear the sounds of plants moving as the children sat down. "Now, what story shall I tell today?"

Immediately, a chorus of eager replies assailed him. "Tell us about the Jedi General during the Great Sith Wars!" "No, tell us about the Tusken Jedi!" "No! The Jedi School Ship!" "I want to hear about the Great Battle of Genosis," a quiet voice spoke up.

"I believe that it is Malia's turn to pick," Malen Daleby pointed out. "What do you want to hear, Malia?"

The little girl replied, "I want to hear about the Jedi School Ship."

"Very well. I may have forgotten parts of it, so all of you will have to help me," he reminded them. "A long time ago, Jedi Master Fin-So-Rowan, and his friend, Jedi Master Ivixa Dalbaeth decided that the Republic and the Jedi needed help connecting to each other."

A little boy interrupted. "Why?"

An older, redheaded girl replied with an air superiority, "Because they were so different, dummy."

"That's not the whole answer, Keevy," Malen admonished gently. "The Republic had grown, and the Jedi, and the government of the Republic had found it impossible to keep up with it. In order to have the best government possible, or be the best person possible, you have to constantly work at improving yourself, and they stopped doing that. Fin-So-Rowan and Ivixa Dalbeath felt that instead of being a community connected to the entire galaxy, the Jedi had turned towards preserving the past.

"They felt the best way to reach out to the people was to build a mobile training academy. They named it _Chu'unthor_."

"What does it mean?" the youngest little girl there. She could not have been above the age of four.

"Children?" Malen inquired.

"It's the Cerean word for Academy," Keevy replied archly.

"Very good, Keevy. For months, they toured the galaxy, spreading peace, and the word of the Jedi to the people that they met."

"And what happened?" Malia asked, pulling the thumb from her mouth with a distinct popping noise.

"The ship crashed on the planet of Dathomir."

"Home of the witches!" a little boy cried out. The children oohed.

"Yes, home of the Force-witches," Malen acknowledged. "When the Jedi Council learned of the crash, they sent a team of Jedi out to rescue them."

Plants rustled as the children leaned forward. "The Jedi were able to save the occupants of the ship, but _Chu'unthor_ was too badly damaged to be saved."

"What happened to the Force-witches?" a little girl asked.

"Nobody knows," the older man replied. "After the Jedi were rescued, they never went back."

"Why not?" an intrepid little boy asked as the other members of the group fell silent.

"There was so much to do that the Jedi caught up trying to save the rest of the galaxy. And whenever they sent teams there, they were always repelled by the Force-witches. So nobody knows." There was a short pause, then Malen said, "Let's get going children. It's dinner time." The children let out loud whoops, and plants crunched underfoot as they raced out of the garden, their feet echoing on the wooden porch as they leapt up the steps.

A short silence descended, then quiet footsteps made their way to her as Malen came to join her. Alina didn't look at him even as he rubbed a comforting hand along her back. "How did you know those stories?" she finally asked.

"My mother was a Jedi," he told her. "She died sixteen years ago, but I remember all the stories she told me about the exploits of the Jedi."

"Is she why you take Jedi in and hide them?"

"All the members of my family have higher than average midichloren levels. Should the Emperor or Darth Vader look towards people like them, they would be in danger." He sighed. "I grew up with so many stories of the Jedi, that I suppose I consider all of you my family. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't help you after all the sacrifices the Jedi had made for us."

The splatter of a raindrop next to her foot caught them by surprise, and Alina started to laugh. Her laughter turned into uncontrollable sobs, and tears slipped slowly down her cheek. His finger brushed lightly against her cheek, catching one tear and wiping it away. "There is nothing wrong with mourning," he told her. "Sometimes it is necessary to prevent despair or the Dark Side from overcoming you." More raindrops pattered nearby, echoing her tears, but she nodded. "I'll tell Felja to keep some dinner warm for you."

And then he was gone, slipping silently inside, away from the steady drumroll of the rain as it began pouring down. A wellspring of emotion grew deep inside of her, and she lifted her face upwards towards the welcome coolness of the water along her heated skin. "Why?" she cried angrily.

Her body shook as she sobbed, burying her face in the tops of her knees. She rocked herself back and forth as she keened, crying for her friends, her Master, all the Jedi she'd ever heard of, all the innocents killed. Thunder boomed and she felt warm arms encircle her, enclosing her in a tight embrace, and a soft soothing voice muttering words in her ear.

She turned in the arms and buried her face in a hard choice. "Let it all out," a voice murmured. "Let them go."

The rain was still pouring down when she'd finally run out of tears to cry, people to mourn. Eyelids closed, she lifted her face to the soothing coolness of the water droplets. A breath, light as a shallow breeze, brushed across her lips, then warmness encompassed them. Warm bursts of light exploded inside of her, and she snuggled closer, loving the peace that she found with the arms around her.

Kisses, light as the brush of a moth's wings, danced across her face, then brushed across her hair, as he held her tight. Aline grabbed hold of the peace that she had found, and let it guide to her drift along the river to oblivion.

After waking up, alone, in her bed that following morning, Alina gave herself two weeks before leaving the Daleby house. She couldn't allow herself to become too attached to the family, and she couldn't risk their lives by staying longer than that. But as she slowly fell in love with the family, and reports of the Jedi being killed died down, she found herself drifting back to the peace she had found and slipping easily into life with them.

However, even as the last of the angry red wounds on her body faded to pale whiteness, which were barely noticeable against her rapidly disappearing tan, the scars on her heart did not. No matter how hard she tried, in sleep, she could not hold onto the serenity that she had found. Night after night, she awoke with tears racing down her face, a sweaty palm clapped over her mouth to prevent the household from hearing her screams, her clothes salty with perspiration. She did not speak of it though. These were her own personal demons to battle, and she refused to bring anyone else into them.

Instead, she chose to work herself to exhaustion, so that when she slept, she had no dreams. But that wasn't a sure proof method: all too often, she awoke with a choked gasp.

During the day, Alina gave no sign of the horrors she underwent each night. She played with the children, telling them tales of the heroics of the Jedi, helped out in the kitchen, and spent the rest of her time either in the gym undergoing physical therapy or in Malen's study, working with him to record what she remembered of the Jedi. Too much of their culture was disappearing with their deaths.

Clad in a dress that had originally been one of Felja's, but altered, Alina leaned against one of the posts framing the window overlooking the gardens in Malen's study, and gazed out in wonder. The sun had begun its descent less than a half hour before, and now brilliant colors were smeared across sky, casting its shadows on buildings, and a golden glow had arisen about the Daleby residence. She didn't want to take it as a sign, but she couldn't help but grin. The house definitely had more than just a few angels in it.

Jorge leaned against the doorway to the study. He'd been sent up to bring Alina down to dinner, since Felja had gotten it into her head to set him up with the rescued Jedi, and threw them together at every opportunity.

_Forget it, Jorge. It's not going to happen,_ he tried to convince himself, before clearing his throat. She whirled to face him, and in that unguarded moment, he found himself falling in love. The tenderness and unshielded emotion on her elegant face drew him in, and he knew that he'd never be able to get his heart back from her. His face closed up, and he said stiffly, "I was sent up to tell you dinner is ready."

A gentle smile curved her lips, and she moved away from the window. "Thanks." The Jedi brushed past him, her maroon skirts sweeping along the floor as she walked by. Jorge sighed, but pushed himself away from the door frame and followed her.

During dinner, he constantly found his eyes being drawn back to her. She looked tired, fragile even, with pale skin and dark circles under her gray eyes, and he began to feel concern welling up in him.

Alina could feel his gaze on her, constant and unwavering, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to get rid of the itchy feeling gathering between them. "Stop staring," she finally snapped.

"S-sorry," Jorge tripped over his words as he fought to explain himself. "You just looked tired, and I was trying to figure out if something was wrong." He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. That was not going to go over well.

She leapt to her feet angrily. "Well, I'm sorry that I don't look bright and peppy every day, but I'm _fine_. Nothing's wrong," she informed him icily before stalking out of the dining hall, maroon gown swirling around her feet like waves riled by a storm.


	3. Part 3

Alina avoided Jorge all day after that, even going to bed early to avoid talking to him. He was walking by her door that evening when he paused. Did he dare go in and apologize?

The decision was taken out of his hands when he heard a choked scream from inside the room. Galvanized into action, he slapped the door controls and rushed in, only to pull up short. No one was there, simply Alina writhing on her bed.

"Alina?" he asked cautiously.

As soon as his words engulfed the silence of the room, she sat straight up in bed, cheeks tear-blotched and red. "Who's there?" she immediately demanded, wiping at her eyes. "Light up, one quarter." The glowlights slowed filled the chamber, and her reddened eyes widened. "Jorge? What do you want?"

"Are you alright?" he asked, hesitating to tread into a subject he knew was painful for her.

He was right to be wary. "I'm fine," she immediately snapped.

"I heard you scream," he replied slowly.

"It was nothing. Now go away. I'm _fine_." Her voice was rising in decibels with each word, and he winced.

"Alright, I'm going." He hastily beat a retreat to the doorway, then hesitated and turned around. "There's nothing wrong with reaching out to others, you know," he gently rebuked before leaving her bedroom entirely.

Alina watched him go, biting her lip against the words her heart tried to spill. He was right, but she was too scared, too lost to know what to do. _Why is this happening?_ she pleaded with the Force. _Why couldn't just let me die?_ Tears streaming down her cheeks once more, she lay back down, and rested her face on the pillow, for once willing sleep to come quickly. Even nightmares were infinitely preferable to battles with her conscience.

&&&&&

Felja gave him a strange look when he'd asked to be moved to the room besides Alina's, but Jorge gave no explanations, other than he thought it would be nice for her to spend some time with her newlywed husband, Wiltive. He kept his distance from Alina, finally having realized that she was still smarting over her lack of control over her nightmares, and the fact that he'd caught her in the throes of having one.

His new room still smelled like Felja, even though it had been more than three hours after she'd moved out. He turned on his side to look at the chrono on the bedside. _2350._ He sighed. _Only ten more minutes to midnight,_ he thought to himself. His mind wandered. It had been two days since he'd walked in on Alina's nightmare- two days of her ignoring him and him avoiding her.

He frowned and sat up. He thought he heard a muffled cry from her room. There it was, again! Jorge threw back the navy coverlet and hurried outside his room to stand at her door. A quick press of his hand to the door controls was all that was necessary to step inside.

Once inside her room, Jorge hesitated. It was one thing to want to stop the nightmares; another thing entirely to know how to do it. He looked over to the former Jedi. Alina was sobbing uncontrollably, shaking and rolling, the bed sheets wrapping themselves tighter around her body with each movement.

A memory flashed in his mind and a slow grin creeped upon his face. Slowly, he inched into the bed, unwrapping the taut sheets from her body and sliding under them, cradling Alina in his arms. At the first touch of his hands on her body, she'd stiffened, but then slowly relaxed. The tremors racing through her skeleton slowed, then disappeared, as she buried her wet face in his dark gray t-shirt.

Pressing a gentle kiss to her unruly hair, he held her close to him. Her sobs quieted gradually, then disappeared. Jorge gently drew her head back and gazed on her face. The lines of tension had faded and smoothed out, leaving her looking peaceful, much like she had evening in the study.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Weariness spread slowly through out his body, and he finally allowed it to overcome him.

&&&&&

Alina blinked twice, disoriented as she woke up and began to take in her surroundings. Someone was in her bed, their warm breath gusting along her neck. Their arms were wrapped tight about her torso, cocooning her in warmness. She frowned as she tried to figure out who it was. Her face was pressed into the spot where the neck met the shoulder, preventing her from seeing anything besides curly brown hair.

Pressing gently against his chest with her fingertips, she leaned back. Her companion protested, pulling her tighter towards him, his legs tangling with hers. "Crap," she whispered softly, barely audible to her own ears. She nudged his shoulder, a bit harder than last time, and he stirred, before blinking open drowsy green eyes.

He blinked several more times, clearing away the sleep-induced haze. "Good morning," Jorge told her, with a slow smile.

Alina picked her words carefully. "Would you mind telling me why you are in my bed?" she finally asked.

He finally seemed to realize that his arms were locked around her, pulling her body to press tightly against his, and a flush began staining his cheeks as he hastily let her go. She took advantage of the freedom to inch back some more. He swung his feet out from under the covers, revealing black sweatpants. Muscles shifted in his right arm as he rubbed his face. "You had another nightmare last night."

The former Jedi flushed with embarrassment. "But that doesn't explain what you were doing in my bed this morning," she pointed out, crawling over the bed clothes to sit next to him. Gray eyes met green, hers reflecting curiosity, his something she didn't recognize.

"I was trying to calm you down so you could fall back to sleep with nightmares, and I accidentally fell asleep," he told her, cheeks flushing even more as he spoke. His eyes jerked away from hers to stare at the floor.

"Oh." She looked down as well, at her hands. "Thanks."

An uncomfortable silence descended, then he tipped her face up to meet his gaze. "Don't worry about it." She pulled her face out of his hand to look away. "Alina, look at me." When she refused to do so, his voice hardened. "Look at me." Reluctantly, she did so. "There's nothing wrong with asking for help or allowing others to see your weakness. Sometimes the best show of strength is allowing yourself to rely on others."

"Why do you care?"

"Because I don't want to see you fall apart." He leaned forward and brushed his lip over her cheek, close to her mouth. "I'd better go get dressed."

Alina watched him leave, then flopped backwards on the bed with a sigh, chestnut hair fanning out around her. _What's going on?_ she wondered. She remembered waking up in Jorge's arms. She'd felt warm and safe, and hadn't wanted to move. The feeling was much like the one she'd experienced with the stranger in the rain. Her breath caught, and she sat straight up in the bed with a quiet gasp. Was Jorge him?

Her forehead furrowed in thought as she climbed off the bed and shucked off her clothes, leaving the white nightgown on the wooden floorboards as she pulled on some khaki trousers, and a red t-shirt. Would it be so bad if he was?

Her mind flashed over the weeks since she'd arrived at the Daleby house. There had been times when Jorge had avoided her, true, but she knew that she could depend on him. _"Sometimes the best show of strength is allowing yourself to depend on others."_

Alina smiled as she slowly worked her long hair into a plait. When she'd arrived here, her faith in the goodness of people had been shattered, completely destroyed. Jorge- and the rest of the Daleby family- had restored that faith. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the cool metal of the mirror. She felt safe with him. _I want that,_ she realized. _I want to feel that._

_&&&&& _

After breakfast, Alina went in search of Jorge, finally finding him in the garage, tinkering with the engine of one of the hovercars. She waited for a minute, watching his body move under the hovercar, listening to the occasional grunt and metal scraping on metal, before levering herself up onto the hood of another hovercar. She let her legs swing free as she watched him work.

Jorge grunted as he used to the multitool to lever a knob tighter. "Wil, hand me the calibrator?" he called. He'd heard the door open to the garage, barely audible over the sound of sparks, the result of his tinkering with the hovercar's engine.

The small metal disk was pressed into his hand, and he hooked it onto his multitool. The knob was more than tight enough, and he scooted out from under the hovercar to come face to face with Alina. Confronted with her clean pale skin and neatly braided hair, he instantly felt like a grubby mess with his greasy old navy blue jumpsuit covered all over with dirt stains. He knew he had grease on his hands and face, and a nasty burn on his left forefinger. "Hi," he said awkwardly.

Alina flicked the braid over her shoulder and pushed away from the black hovercar she was leaning on. She gave him an easy smile as she asked, "Can we walk?"

He gazed at her for a long moment, then gave a short nod. "Let's go then."

Jorge led them into the garden in the center of the house and they strolled easily along the paths. Alina found herself rambling, talking about her few memories of her birth-family, the more numerous ones of her friends and the Jedi. And then, haltingly, she began talking about her flight from the Jedi Temple, watching her master die, losing her friends to death and betrayal.

He listened carefully, understanding what she was saying underneath her words. She was giving him a verbal indication of her trust; he knew for a fact that she hadn't talked to anyone else regarding these memories. His heart wrenched for her as he listened to her recount her trials and the harshness of her life for those months before his brother had rescued her.

He placed a gentle hand on her arm and turned her to face him. Unshed tears glittered like stars in the night sky before spilling over down her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away before drawing her into his arms. Sheltered from view of the house by trees and other vegetation, they stood relaxed in each other's embrace, taking comfort in each other.

After several minutes, she tipped her face to lock eyes with his. His own head slowly lowered, hesitating centimeters from her lips, hope and fear intermingling in the green of his eyes. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his curly brown hair, and drew his head down to hers.

Their lips met and clung, warm breath mingling. "Stay with me," he whispered, his breath gusting against her lips.

&&&&&

The days flew by as Alina reveled in her new life. No longer did she worry about possible discovery by the Empire, as the Republic had been newly declared. She found herself relaxing far beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. She gloried in the trust she'd placed in Jorge, finding it to be one of the most liberating things she'd ever experienced. The love that grew within her was beautiful to her, overwhelming her at times.

She spent her time recording as much as she could about the Jedi with Malen, finding the words flowing as she recalled more and more.

One day, late in the evening, Alina pressed the stop button on the recorder and quietly left the room. She found Jorge in the kitchen, tasting a pastry that a little girl with blonde pigtails had apparently made. "Can we walk?" the former Jedi asked when he looked up.

He gave her a quick nod, then turned to the little girl. "This is delicious, Diry. You should make some more so we can all have it for dessert tomorrow night."

Diry gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck before skipping off out of the room. Jorge finished the fruit pastry, scraping his fork along the plate to get the last of the dish before putting the two items in the automotive dishwasher.

As they walked to the door, he reached for her hand and twined his own around it. They walked in silence for several minutes before reaching a secluded porch. "What did you want?" Jorge asked.

Alina looked at his chest for a minute, fiddling with one of his shirt buttons. "You remember the other night? When we first kissed?" He was fascinated by the fact that she was blushing, but nodded. "You asked me to stay, and I never gave you an answer." She hesitated, then whispered, "Yes."

His green eyes blazed, and then his lips crashed down on hers. Caught in the middle of a tempest, all Alina could do was wrap her arms around him as fire exploded within her.

Jorge pulled back a little while later, but still kept his arms wrapped tightly around her. "Someone's coming," he whispered hoarsely.

Foorsteps echoed from inside, and then Felja came into view, a slightly panicked expression in her blue eyes. "Alina, Jorge, come quick." When the two hesitated, she urged, "Come on!" Alina exchanged a glance with Jorge, and then the two hurried after the blonde.

Felja led them to Malen's study, where he and Wiltive were waiting, along with a pretty woman with curly black hair. "Alina, Jorge, I'd like to introduce you to Monelle A'Duley. Monelle, this is my son Jorge, and this is Padawan Alinketa Vepos."

The woman stepped forward, hand outstretched. Alina took it, grasping it warmly. "Hello."

Monelle smiled. "Hi."

Wiltive broke in at that moment. "Monelle has received information from her contact network regarding a Padawan Jasken Kiko."

Alina immediately straightened. "Jasken? He's still alive?" There was hope shining in her eyes like brilliant stars.

"We're not sure," the black-haired woman replied. "Apparently, a friend of mine had lead a group of rebels to break him out of the jail he was waiting in before being transported off planet. Unfortunately, the stormtroopers managed to track 'em, and Tikie barely managed to escape with his life. Jasken was re-captured and now Vader has taken a personal interest in him, according to another source of mine."

The former Jedi's face fell. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's being held in the capital city lock-up, awaiting Vader's arrival next week," she was informed. Glossy flatpics were passed over. "Just for confirmation, is this him?"

Alina looked over the pictures, wincing as she took in his battered face, captured so graphically by the holos. "It's him," she said weakly.

Monelle nodded. "I've got a team standing b-" She broke off as the portable comm unit on her belt whined as a call came in. "A'Duey here," she snapped out as she snatched it off her waist.

She frowned, snapped out some orders, then said, "Thanks." The unit was placed back on her belt, and she informed the group. "Vader is en-route to the Corellian system inow/i."

Five faces whitened and flurry of voice filled the room, demanding answers. So caught up in the new problem, no one noticed as Alina stepped backwards towards the doorway, then slipped through it.

Her soft-soled shoes were barely audible against the wooden floor as she hurried down the hallway to her bedchamber. Ignoring the various pieces of clothing scattered around the floor- Jorge and she hadn't gotten around to cleaning up after last night- she headed straight to the wardrobe.

Alina stripped off the light green trousers, gray t-shirt, and cream colored jacket, and pulled on a costume that was all dark brown: pants, shirt, vest, and boots. Fingers easily replaited her Padawan's braid, and then she left the room. She stole stealthily towards Malen's bedroom, where her lightsaber and blasters had been stored.

Minutes later, she slipped into the garage and started up one of the hovercars. Its engine purred, and then she was leaving the Daleby home behind her. She drove for several hours, headed for the capital city. In the city outskirts, she abandoned the hovercar, and walked in.

Dawn was just beginning to drag her paint-tipped fingers across the lightening sky. Alina called on the Force, using it to help her blend in with her surroundings, as she crept past some guards, listening in on their conversation.

"Aw, man, how much longer do we have to wait here?" one of the guards whined, rubbing one foot against the opposite calf. He was clad in the ill-fitting dark red uniforms with yellow piping of the Corellian Planetary Guard.

"For as long as we're ordered, Vanin. You don't want to make a mistake when Lord Vader gets here," the other snapped. "Stop whining."

"We've been standing here for two hours," Vanin grumbled.

"Well, you'll be standing here for at least a couple more hours, so stop whining. Shut up and look professional,' the second bit out.

Alina grinned slowly as she sneaked past, into the jail. Two arguing sergeants passed by, and she pressed herself tight against the wall.

As she moved away from it, she caught a snippet of a conversation. "That bloody Jedi broke Kei's nose!" Alina sidled up behind them, listening in.

"Oi, you!" She looked up to see a muscular man whose red hair clashed horribly with his uniform motioning to her from behind a desk. "What do you want, girl?" he demanded.

The former Jedi forced herself to think fast. "My brother was picked up for public drunkenness. I was told I could find him here."

"His name?" the soldier asked in a bored monotone.

"Derenk Saliiny," Alina lied.

The man tapped several keys on the datacomp, then looked up. "He's not here." A couple of more keys clicked. "We only have dangerous criminals here, no public drunkenness."

Alina forced her eyes to sparkle with excitement as she leaned over the desk. "Dangerous criminals?" she echoed. "Like murderers?"

He shook his head. "Homicide suspects go straight to the planetary prison. We do have a Jedi though," he reported, puffing out his chest.

"A Jedi? Won't he use his magical powers to escape?" The former Jedi added a note of fear to her voice. "Am I in danger?"

"Not at all," he leaned forward reassuringly. "He's in a secure cell on the ninth floor. We're on the first. You're perfectly safe."

Alina nodded. "That's a good thing to hear. Well, I'd better go look for Derenk." She strolled out of the jail and disappeared into the alley beside the building. _What do I do now?_

She only had a couple of hours before Vader got to Corellia City; she wanted to be long gone by then, preferably with Jasken.

A hand clamped over her mouth at that instant, and she forced back a scream as she bit down- hard. With a strangled yelp, the man behind her, let go, cursing quietly. Alina spun to see Jorge, Malen, Wiltive, Monelle, and Felja, along with several others, standing with her attackers.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" a blond stranger demanded.

The former Jedi crossed her arms defiantly. "I could ask the same of you," she retorted.

Another blond, who looked exactly like the first, didn't even bother to disguise his outrage. "Our jobs," he spat.

"No," Alina corrected. "_My_ job. Jasken is on the ninth floor in a secure cell." Jorge caught her eye, and she realized she owed him an explanation, to her shame. A long one.

"We're helping," Wiltive stated. There was no question involved. Alina sighed, then nodded, accepting their help. Immediately, she was drawn into the group as they began figuring out what they were going to do.

Jorge pulled her aside just as she was about to begin her ascent of the building. He hesitated, then simply ordered fiercely, "Be careful." He pulled her against him so tightly that her ribs creaked.

Alina pulled his head down to hers for a hard kiss. "I will," she promised. He nodded, and then they began crawling up the side of the building. A window on the ninth floor was easily opened, and then the ten of them slipped inside.

Using hand signals, one of the blonds indicated that there were two guards about a hundred meters away. As the only guards on the entire floor, they made it rather easy to pinpoint where Jasken's cell was.

A earpiece was pressed into Alina's hand, and she quickly inserted it. "Video feeds off and erased," a quiet voice whispered minutes later. "Lights shutting down." At his words, the entire floor blinked into darkness. Alina stole silently forward and stunned the two guards while they were distracted, and then Malen set about unlocking Jasken's cell.

The door swung open, barely visible in the unlit room. The two blonds hurried into the cell and helped Jasken out. The cell door was shut behind them, and then the entire group went quickly out the window, the lights coming back on as they disappeared.

Using backstreets and alleys, the team easily made their way to a parked hovercar. As someone started the engine, Alina reached up and flicked on the interior lights to check on Jasken's condition.

She bit back a gasp when she finally got a glimpse. It looked _awful_. His face was pasty pale, the cuts and bruises standing out in sharp relief. He'd been unconscious since they'd broken him out of the cell.

Jorge joined her. "He doesn't look too good," he observed. "Felja!" The blonde popped her head back from the front of the hovercar. "We need to take a look at Jasken. He's in really bad shape."

Monelle clambered over the seats as well, but remained silent as Felja ran a med scanner over Jasken's body. The blonde finally looked up. "It's not going to be easy, even if it's possible," she confessed. "We've got a crushed kneecap, three broken ribs, massive amounts of internal bleeding, head trauma, three blaster wounds, one of which is festering, two missing teeth, three crushed fingers, a sprained wrist, and a loss of about point eight liters of blood." Everyone winced. "It gets worse. I suspect that one of his lungs is punctured and nine of his vertebrae have been crushed. Even if he survives, it is highly unlikely that he'll ever walk again."

&&&&&&&&

I just wanted to quickly apologize for not updating last week: I was on vacation in Florida, without ATWTTS, and due to the hassle of last minute packing, I wasn't able to post. I apologize.

Reviews are my lifeblood!


	4. Part 4

Jorge found Alina sitting on one of the wooden benches in the garden, looking down at her feet. He sat down beside her, pant leg brushing against the deep blue skirt of her gown that she'd changed into after shucking the blood-stained brown outfit from before. She didn't say anything for several long moments, simply rested her head on his shoulder. "I feel like it's my fault," she finally whispered.

His arm came around her shoulders to pres her head closer to him. "It's not," he reassured her. "You could barely even walk when most of his injuries occurred."

"But I still could have done _something_," she protested. "He saved my _life_."

"You thought he was dead, Alina," Jorge pointed out. "There was nothing you could have done."

She sighed, turning her head and rubbing her noise lightly against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she eventually said.

"For what?" he sounded amused.

"For having a self-pity fest and running off without telling anyone," she replied honestly.

He was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Alina. You're human; you're not perfect. You will always make mistakes. It's actually rather reassuring, you know."

"Reassuring?" Alina couldn't make up her mind what she felt at his words.

He dipped his head to press a light kiss to her lips. "It's reassuring to know that the woman I love isn't completely perfect; I'd feel pretty inferior in comparison."

Her heart stopped, then started pounding again at about a trillion kilometers per second at his words. "You love me," she stuttered.

He nodded, a look of uncertainty darkening his green eyes.

A million feelings roared through her at his gesture, but her outward silence convinced Jorge that she didn't return his feelings. "It's not supposed to pressure you or anything; I just wanted you to-"

She cut him off by placing a light finger on top of his lips. "Has anyone told you that you talk way too much?" She shifted her body so that her lips were mere centimeters from his, their breath intermingling in a warm gust of air. "I love you too," she whispered before pressing her mouth to his.

Jorge's green eyes darkened with emotion as his lips crushed hers, arms locking her in the middle of a storm of emotion. She fisted her hands in his hair in a desperate attempt to hold fast.

A discreet cough interrupted their embrace far too soon. The two jerked apart, flushing bright red as Wiltive grinned at them. "Jasken just woke up," he informed them.

At his words, Jorge gave Alina a little nudge. "Go see your friend," he told her, pressing his lips to her cheek.

She turned to catch her lips with her, before pulling back and quietly telling him, "Thank you." She disappeared inside the house with a quick smile over her shoulder.

In the doorway to the room, Alina paused. Jasken looked awful, his face blending in with the crisp white sheets, marred by angry red scratches and a rainbow of bruises along his face and shoulders, visible above the coverlet. Its dark green color made him look even paler. His brown eyes looked exhausted. "Hey," she called softly.

His head tilted to look at her. "Hey yourself," he returned weakly, so quietly she could barely hear him, as he shifted on the bed. _This is so stupid_, Alina thought to herself as she matched over to his cot and sat down on the edge of it. She chatted about nonsensical matters, determined to take her friend's mind of his injuries and the horrors of the last couple of months, and he interjected his own thoughts occasionally.

Felja shooed her out after fifteen minutes, when Jasken began coughing furiously. The blonde woman pulled her aside once she'd left the room. "I'm worried about Jasken," she began abruptly.

"Why? What's the matter?" the brunette asked, alarm growing.

"He's too weak for my liking," the blonde informed her. "I'm afraid that an infection or a fever will kill him, especially if that blaster would doesn't heal quickly," she worried.

The peace Alina had found earlier disappeared, its substitute worry for Jasken. Instead of becoming stronger, he appeared to be getting weaker and weaker as the days went by. And then the night came when Felja roused her from her sleep, a little after midnight. "Alina!" the blonde woman shook the Jedi's shoulder. "Alina, you've got to wake up now."

The brunette woman simply moaned and buried her face deeper into Jorge's shoulder. "Dammit," the blonde sighed, before pinching Alina's earlobe.

The Jedi woke up immediately, a grouchy look on her face. "What?" she demanded irritably.

"Jasken's got a forty-one degree fever," the woman replied urgently. "If he gets much hotter, he'll end baking his own internal organs." Alina slipped out of bed at once and began pulling on some clothes. Jorge rolled over in bed, taking up the space she had just vacated.

When they got out into the lit corridor, Felja began to snicker at the Jedi's choice in wardrobe. She was wearing a bright lime green skirt, and a yellow, red, and blue monogrammed shirt that was obviously Jorge's: it fell to the middle of her thighs and the short sleeves reached past her elbows. Alina looked down at her clothes, then grinned wryly. "I guess I dressed in the dark, huh?"

The blonde snorted as they hurried down the hallway. Inside Jasken's room, Monelle was seated in front of a bank of monitors. Malen was handing her a cup of caf as the other two women entered. "Alina, Felja," the black-haired woman acknowledged.

"How bad is it?" Alina asked, afraid to know the answer. Her fear was justified. As she listened to Monelle's terse run-through of Jasken's condition, her heart sank. His injuries were much worse than they'd originally believed, and now his body was acting as a microwave.

_Would a healing trance work?_ she wondered, chewing on her bottom lip. She had no idea if she could even handle it- the few times she'd attempted it, she'd been left incredibly weakened. She realized that she'd already made her decision: she owed Jasken her life. More than that, he was her friend. The voices of the other people in the room faded to meaningless buzz as she placed a cool hand on his forehead, opening her mind up to the Force.

_She found herself in a gray landscape, completely deserted by any sort of visible human light. Frowning, she concentrated on seeking out Jasken's life force, finally finding in a tiny stone amphitheater_. Jasken?_ she called._

_Startled, his gray life force turned. _Alina? Is that you?_ Force, even his mind-voice was weak._ Alina, what are you doing here?_ he cried, backing away from her._

Jasken, what's the matter with you? _she asked, confused_. Why are we here?_ Here had changed, to a dark land full of ominous shadows and a overwhelming feeling of pain. Instead of glowing golden to her, Jasken was gray, barely showing, instead blending in with the dreary landscape._

It's my time, Alina, _he told her sadly._ You shouldn't be here. Go back, _he ordered firmly._

_Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed a hold of his pale hand. She gasped as pain blackened her vision. Someone began screaming, and she wished that she could join in. Seconds later, she'd been shoved away, and after a long minute, she was able to see again. If possible, Jasken was even paler. _Get out of here!_ he shouted._

I'm not leaving you!_ she shouted right back, grabbing hold of his arm and gritting her teeth against the pain._

You don't have a choice, _he shot back. Quieter, he added_, I'm dying.

_His words broke her concentration and she lost her grip. Jasken began fading away into nothingness as Alina screamed in denial. And then her body was being tossed around like a broken doll, cruelly buffeted by harsh winds sweeping across the kaleidoscope-like landscape._

As Alina fell away from Jasken's body, Malen and Felja rushed forward to catch her before she struck the ground. Monelle took a step and pressed two fingers to the pulse spot on Jasken's neck. There was nothing. "No pulse," she announced with a somber air to the recorder before hurrying to help the others.

The unconscious Jedi was limp as they lifted and then lowered her to a second bed, but occasionally she thrashed around, making their job that much harder. Finally, they got her to lie on the bed, her head cushioned by a pillow. "Go get Jorge," Felja ordered.

Malen nodded at Monelle, and the black-haired woman heaved a mock sign before walking out of the room. At the door to the room Jorge and Alina had begun sharing, she rapped her knuckles hard on it.

Several long moments later, Jorge opened the door, shirtless and bleary-eyed. Monelle fought back a blush as she rapidly informed him, "You're wanted in the infirmary."

"Where's Alina?" he demanded in answer.

"She's ther," Monelle responded. At her words, Jorge shot down the hallway, leaving her in his doorway with a flabbergasted expression on her face.

He stopped short in the doorway of the room that had been designated as the infirmary at the sight of the woman he loved resting on one of the beds. It was too much like the last time she'd been in here, barely able to walk. "What happened?" he demanded hoarsely.

"We don't know," Felja answered honestly. "All we know is that she is unconscious," she hesitated, "and in a lot of pain."

Jorge sat there, at her bedside, for several hours, his eyes glued to her face, waiting for something, any sort of sign to indicate that she was okay. When her eyelids finally fluttered open, he felt a feeling of relief unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. "Hey, sleepyhead," he greated.

"Hey yourself," she retorted weakly, struggling to sit up in bed.

"Glad to see you're awake Alina," Felja exclaimed as she bustled over. "No, don't sit up. You gave us quite a scare you know."

"Sorry about that."

"Can you tell me what happened?" the blonde woman asked.

Alina sighed, but slowly recounted what she'd experienced, at every moment aware of the recorder resting on the bed next to her. When she reached the point where she'd been ripped free from Jasken, Jorge placed a comforting arm about her shoulders.

When she finally finished, nobody moved for a long moment. Eventually, Felja got to her feet. "I'm just going to check you for any injuries, and if you're clear, you're free to go," she informed the Jedi. The black medical scanner produced no problems. "Get some rest and you'll be back to normal," the blonde informed her. "Now get out of here."

Jorge promptly slid his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, cradling her in his arms. Felja's jaw dropped, but then he sent a slow wink in her direction and she grinned. "Have fun!" she called cheekily as he strode out of the room.

Alina was too much in shock for the first thirty seconds of the journey to do anything besides gape at Jorge. However, she finally got her voice back. "Jorge! Put me down! I'm not an invalid, you know!"

"No." There was not a single centimeter of compromise in his voice.

She couldn't believe it. "What? Why not?" she demanded.

He didn't answer as he stepped into their room. He lay down on the bed, keeping a tight hold on her, then released her legs and pressed a light kiss to her lips. "You always seem to get in trouble if I don't have my arms around you." He shrugged. "So the solution is not to let you go."

Alina chuckled. "I suppose that makes sense," she told him. "Although, next time, I'd appreciate more advance notice."

He joined her in laughing. "I suppose I can give you that," he teased.

They lay on the bed in comfortable silence for a while, simply breathing, thinking, and holding each other. A tear slipped down her cheek as she began to cry, and he drew her tighter into his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart, cry it all out," he murmured, stroking her hair and back. "Just cry it all out."

Gradually, her tears stopped, gradually transforming into hiccups, and still he held her. "What's going to happen next, do you wonder?" she asked, once her hiccups had finally ended and her tears had dried.

He shifted a little closer. "Dad is planning to have a Corellian-style funeral for Jasken, later this week," he told her. "We figured that it was the best sort of tribute we could give him, given the situation."

"And Vader?" she reminded.

Jorge sighed. "Here's where it gets complicated. Vader knows that a Jedi-friendly faction broke Jasken out of that prison. He's distracted right now- apparently there has been rebellion on the outer rim, and he went out to deal with it personally. But there's a chance he could come back and search for us."

She looked up to lock gazes with him. "What are you saying?" she asked hesitantly.

"Wil is purchasing us tickets to Mon Calamari, to start a new life there," he told her. "We'd leave after the funeral." When she was silent in response, he felt his heart race. "Do you not like it?"

"Us?" she finally asked.

Jorge's heart stopped, then began to sink. "Do you not want me to come with you?" he asked carefully.

Alina shook her head furiously. "No, I'm just-" she hesitated. "How could you leave all this behind?" she finally asked. "If we left, it would be exceedingly difficult to ever come back."

He too hesitated, then told her, "I won't deny it- it will be hard. But it's worth it, if I have you. I love you, Alina. I've never said that to any woman beside my mother before you."

Her arms tightened around him, pulling him closer. "I love you too," she whispered as she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And I think that your plan is a good one."

The fire crackled, engulfing the body on the funeral pyre, and lighting up the darkening sky. Little more than a dozen people watched the blaze, each lost in their own thoughts. Alina took comfort in Jorge's arm about her. _I'm sorry I failed you, Jasken,_ her mind whispered. _May you finally have eternal peace._

No verbal words were spoken, but as the flames died down, leaving only ashes that the wind soon carried away, people began peeling off, returning to their own lives. Only five remained in the end.

"So this is it, son," Malen said, embracing the brown haired man, with a smile at the petite woman standing beside him. "I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks, Dad," Jorge replied, returning the embrace. The two men held each other, then thumped each other on the back and let go. Jorge quickly found himself in his brother's rib-cracking hug.

"You'd better take care of Alina," Wil warned. "She's the best thing that ever happened to you."

Jorge looked over at where she was hugging his father. "I know," he returned. "And I will."

Alina hugged Malen quickly. "Thanks for everything you've done," she told the older man warmly. "You've been wonderful."

"No, thank _you_," Malen corrected. "It's been an excellent experience." He squeezed her one more time, then let her go, saying, "Take care of that son of mine, 'kay?"

"Okay." And then she was pulled off the ground as Wil grabbed her from behind. "Wil, put me down," she immediately ordered, fighting back a laugh.

He held her for another second before doing so. "I told my idiot brother this, but you're the best thing that ever happened to him. Don't let him forget that," he teased.

"Making moves on my girl already?" Jorge called as he hugged Felja.

"I figured it was only fair," Wil retorted, "since your making on the moves on mine."

Jorge laughed. "Ah, but you know you have nothing to worry about: her heart is firmly yours, brother."

"Neither do you, big guy," Alina reminded him firmly. She gave Wil one last squeeze. "We should probably get going. Don't want to miss our shuttle."

Felja reached out and embraced the former Jedi. "Our doors are always open," she informed the younger woman. "You know the comm number, right?" The brunette nodded. "Call and give us your new address so I can send you the holos when I get them developed."

"Thank you, Felja," Alina replied warmly. "For everything."

"And thank _you_."

At the blonde's words, Jorge hooked an arm around Alina's waist. "We'll talk to you all later," he promised before leading her to the waiting hovercar. The Dalebys waved as he drove away.

At the spaceport, they found their shuttle with ease. "_Fleetwings_?" Jorge asked the man standing in front.

"Yes, it is," he replied. "I'm one of the pilots. Are you passengers?"

Alina nodded as Jorge replied, "Mr. and Mrs. Jorge Daleby."

The pilot checked his datapad. "Yes, you're on the passenger list. Welcome aboard."


End file.
